The Horn, where they’d entered it, was extremely wide. At first, there were low sandy sides. Later, rock and earth banks appeared. The current was now against them and descending fast. Mr. Zoe had to use his engine and maneuver carefully. He called upon them for paddling sometimes, and it was weary work. Muscles out of use since last summer had to awaken and lengthen, although Sascho was stronger than he’d ever been.
The opposite shore remained impressively far away. The banks grew steeper. On such steep slopes, drunken spruce followed their roots in a slow motion slide into the water. This river was not like the clear water of Yaot’l’s home. It was cloudy, brown and sometimes milky, full of sediment as it hurried along. They’d traveled without much effort down Dehcho. Now, for the first time, they were pushing daily against current.
Mr. Zoe certainly had packed along containers of gas, but these belonged to an upriver customer. The putt-putt would soon run out of its allotted share.
“We’ll soon be paddling hard,” he’d said. “The mouth here is full of water, but it will be nothing but a maze by August.” Mr. Zoe shouted the information back to Sascho.
The next day they passed a beautiful forested island. At first, Tanis thought the trees she saw were on the opposite shore, but Mr. Zoe said it was called Fawn Island. Here they saw herds of deer and moose, too, wading in boggy shallows. This enormous game rich island hedged by the melt-swollen river looked like a good hunting place.
“We could easily take a deer now, but it takes time to prepare one.”
“And there’s no more room in this boat.” Tanis spoke. She had sat on Yaot’l’s side of the load today, just for a change.
“No time for hunting,” said Mr. Zoe. “And my friends are expecting me—and that gas—soon.” Then, unexpectedly he added, “I had a daughter like you, Little Sister, but it was a very long time ago.”
Yaot’l looked over her shoulder and saw Tanis gazing trustingly back at him.
Both Stonypoint children were small and fine-boned, but now that they were so thin, there was something ghostly about them. Such pale faces and gaunt cheeks!
Tonight, I will properly comb and re-braid her hair, be a mother to her.
She’d need to start doing these domestic tasks, as well as checking for lice. Yaot’l resolved to find the time to do so for everyone.
Sometimes she wanted to pinch herself for it did not seem possible that they had so easily escaped. That school had forced them into one box after another, every day a copy of the last with only a few variations—Saturday, Sunday, a strange language battering her ears, more punishments, more fights.
Now the struggle was elsewhere, but here bathed in the sun and wind, labor unremitting and physical, as all around them, daily, the temperature rose. They rolled jackets and put them away, shoving the clothing into the crevices among the other stuff.
Kele and Tanis were weary almost to speechlessness by the time they reached shore each night. The river was rich, though, and fed them well.
They sometimes saw other spring travelers camped along the river, but Mr. Zoe took pains to avoid them. He had friends camping at Mink Lake, he said, that were expecting what he carried. He’d collect their winter stash of furs and head down river to a trading post at Mills Lake. He wouldn’t be able to show his face again in Fort Providence for a long time.
“After a whole winter there, I was tired of that place. I might go down Dehcho next winter, to the Jean-Marie.”
This was, Sascho thought, another piece of the wide world about which he knew next to nothing. There wasn’t a lot of time before sleep in which he could ponder such things and he often wished there was, but every day they paddled. The river, once so wide, withered away.
They arrived at Mink Lake weary days later. Mr. Zoe greeted his kin, some of whom appeared to be Métis. There was his younger brother, Anton Zoe, his wife, Pearl, and their children. There was also a wary young man, George Lafferte, who looked full Tłı̨chǫ, whom Mr. Zoe called “my nephew.”
When they first met George, he immediately made a point of saying that he was “older than” Sascho.
There were also two widowed elders and George’s parents, a man, his wife, and three children, two of whom were near the age of Kele and Tanis. Mr. Laferte was Pearl Zoe’s brother. It was the sort of kin group with which the runaways were familiar, banded together in a small group to hunt and fish.
At the campfire on the first night, as the four fugitives sat quietly, watching and listening, they learned that two older boys, one Laferte, one Zoe, had just left camp. They were now crossing country toward the Yellowknife road, where they hoped to find work. One of these had left a pregnant wife behind. She seemed very young, and the sight of her unsettled Yaot’l. Here was what she herself might have been, had she been married to Jimmy Tailbone.
It was the subject of much conversation that Achille Zoe had not yet found a wife.
“He’s not much to look at,” Mr. Laferte said, “but that nephew of yours knows how to trap, Zoe. That’s for damn sure.”
“It’s not his fault he fell into the fire when he was little.”
“It was his mother’s fault,” said Pearl, “and that no good man of hers.”
The adults agreed and the conversation moved on. Later, Mr. Laferte talked at length about a group of white hunters they’d seen heading north.
Pearl, Sylvain’s half sister, was a fair skinned Métis, with a tinge of red in her hair. Though a handsome woman, she had lived long years in the bush, which hardened and lined her face. After Yaot’l got to know her, she was reminded of her own Aunt Kathy, for she was sometimes cheerful and sometimes bossy. She always, however, liked the sound of her own voice. Pearl spoke English, but she knew Tłı̨chǫ and Slavey, too.
For the first days, Yaot’l stayed with the Zoes and did women’s work. She and Tanis scrubbed everyone’s traveling clothes, but after that, they helped with the hides the women were working, with fishing, preparing, and hanging fillets to dry. It was not a rest, but it was a change from the river, a chance to get used to living on the land once again. Besides, she knew they owed Mr. Zoe. Without his help, they’d never have gotten so far so fast.
“You must stay with us for a while. No need to hurry north.” Pearl said it not once but many times. She smiled at Yaot’l whenever she repeated it. On the surface it was hospitality, but there was a lot of summer work to do that required women’s hands. Daily, Yaot’l and Tanis were kept busy. Yaot’l was used to these tasks; Tanis knew very little. Yaot’l found she had to teach her young companion as well as get through her own share of work.
“You cut fish pretty good.” Mamàcho—Mr. Zoe’s mother‑‑with the solemn, withered face, soon offered regular praise. Yaot’l smiled but continued her careful fileting, while the old woman, seated nearby, went on with her own work. She was beading bracelets, quite a task for those old eyes and crooked fingers. The sight of the box of trade goods, gaudy beads shining, returned Yaot’l to last year at Gam`e`t`i and her own box of bracelets, the blue and white ones she’d never finished.
Sascho went away with Mr. Zoe and George to set traps. Muskrat fur was always a good trade item. Mr. Laferte stayed behind to keep an eye on things. Yaot’l and the kids missed Sascho. They were also a little anxious too because Mr. Zoe had left them by themselves among folk who were not their kin.
The four of us will make our own family…
As Yaot’l paused to wipe sweat from her brow—she used the back of her arm —it didn’t seem possible that almost an entire year had passed. On the other hand, it was also as if ages had gone by, ages spent in that strange, hurtful place. To wake up out of doors, to hear the birds at dawn, and, at night, the cries of fox and owl, the high quivering voice of the loon, brought her shivers of delight.
The runaways made their own shelter out of branches and spare canvas a little removed from the rest. Yaot’l slept between Tanis and Kele, those weary children who were now her new little brother and sister. They, so fearful and uncertain, both stayed close to Yaot’l. They gathered wood and water and helped her in other ways, but neither showed interest in the other children when sometimes, toward evening, a game started, or playing with the puppies. The little band of escapees kept to themselves and did not try to join in.
Kele did whatever Yaot’l asked, and Mr. Laferte often kept him busy with fishing, which seemed to suit both of them. If the band asked them to help with some task, like setting up a dying rack, they did, although the camp’s children were sometimes jealous of the newcomers and were quick to tell on Kele or Tanis if one or the other made some kind of mistake.
Daisy, the young wife, often complained of illness. She was appreciative of Yaot’l’s capable hands at work upon the day-to-day tasks. Pearl Zoe seemed sympathetic to her weariness and discomfort—Daisy could be heard puking every morning—but Mrs. Laferte was not. Sometimes, the next thing after the retching would be Mrs. Laferte’s nagging voice.
“I was married same age as you, girl, and all alone with my first husband in the bush. I carried my baby all day and then set up camp for my man at night while he sat by the fire. I prepared his game and cooked it too and then, next day, same thing all over again. We never stopped moving. Now, Daisy, no more of this lying around—get up and get us water.”
If poor Daisy, still fighting off her nausea, was slow to obey, or if she asked for a moment longer, Mrs. Laferte would add: “Why, my first husband would have beaten you black and blue, you lazy little slug!”
“You better watch yourself, girl. Sylvain probably wants you for his wife—or, maybe, for that ugly nephew of his.”
Yaot’l, who was standing on a ladder hanging a string of fish, startled. She hadn’t heard Mrs. Laferte arrive. When Yaot’l didn’t immediately reply, but continued checking over her knots, the woman continued.
“Sylvain said he’d come back from Fort Providence this spring with a wife. Maybe he has.”
To give herself time to consider, Yaot’l stayed where she was and went on inspecting each knot which secured the precious load.
What Mrs. Laferte had said was disturbing. The “few days” that Sascho was supposed to be away, setting traps with Mr. Zoe and George, had stretched long beyond a week.
Here they were, so far from their own families, way up this unknown river and living among strangers. Anything could happen. After all, these were not her kin, not even Tłı̨chǫ—but Métis, whose word, her father had always claimed, was suspect.
Yaot’l knew how men behaved when they were hungry for women. Why, hadn’t she had Brother Disante sidling up beside her, surreptitiously touching her—whenever he didn’t think anyone else was watching—ever since the Easter feast? He’d even tried to put his arms around her one evening when she’d been carrying dishes away from the priests’ parlor. It had been all she could do to evade him and not drop the tray.
“I am promised to Sascho. Mr. Sylvain knows that.” Yaot’l, from her perch high on the ladder, met the woman’s eyes with the most severe expression she could muster.
Mrs. Laferte laughed shortly. “You’d be smart to stay here with us and not go out into the bush by yourselves with those weak kids, who don’t know nothin’. It’s easy to die out there.”
Yaot’l made no reply. She was better able to deal with spite when she stood a head higher. After a few moments of staring, Mrs. Laferte, apparently having said what she’d come to say, went to tend the cries of one of her kids.
She took her time descending the ladder, thoughts racing. After such a—threat—or was it a warning?—she was in no mood to rejoin Pearl and Daisy and the rest.
For a time she simply stood on the tongue of sandy Whagweè. Here, where a strong breeze blew down the river, the fillets would quickly dry. For a time, she rested one hand upon the uprights and focused on the rippling water, surrounded by the strong aroma of newly cut fish.
Sascho! How I long to see him!
What if he never returns? What if I’ve found him only to lose him again?
What if…?
What if they encountered bad white men in the forest…?
What if Mr. Zoe and George had schemed to leave Sascho behind …?
A hundred notions besieged her, each darker than the last.
Yaot’l, Kele and Tanis ate around their own small fire that evening. On a diet of fish and berries—now ripening in the bush on every side—they all felt stronger. The day had continued to bring trouble. Later, Kele, for no good reason, had picked a fight with one of the younger Laferte boys. The others had quickly piled on. Now, once again, he had a black eye and a bloody nose. Mrs. Laferte had yelled and beaten him with a stick until Pearl intervened, but she’d told them all to stay by their own fire tonight.
“That little fellow has a bad temper,” Pearl said. “You are going to have to keep him away from our kids. They won’t forget, and, after today, they won’t let up on him, either.”
Yaot’l didn’t argue. Kele’s behavior upset her. To bully someone younger, to provoke a fight for no reason—that was not the Tłı̨chǫ way.
“When is Sascho coming back so we can get out of this dump?” Kele, sullen-faced, wanted an answer.
“Yes. Wasn’t he supposed to be back by now?” Tanis echoed her brother.
What could she do but nod at her new little brother and sister?
But what, Yaot’l wondered, could be wrong with Kele? He was no longer the cheerful confident little boy she’d met in Behchok’o.
“Yes, he was supposed to be here three days ago, but you know how a journey can be longer than you expect. I hope…” Yaot’l began, but stopped herself.
I am oldest! She must not share her fears with them, especially Kele, who was already on edge.
They’d gone to their shelter for sleep, but Yaot’l lay awake, full of worry. When the camp dogs began to bark wildly, she crawled out at once to see what had set them off.
It was Sascho and the others! They carried a load of field dressed game, muskrat skins and a young deer. Mr. Laferte, still by the fire, observed loudly that there would be plenty of work for the camp’s women in the morning.
“What troubles you, Yaot’l ?” Mr. Zoe had noticed how she’d been avoiding him. She was now preparing a muskrat carcass—skinning muskrat was a careful, tedious task. You couldn’t really rush at it, or you’d ruin the skin or slice into the gut and defile the flesh.
Mr. Zoe had come to sit nearby, but had not yet spoken. Instead, he appeared to be engaged in an attempt to light his pipe. So far, it had refused to draw. He’d tried knocking it against a stump, but that hadn’t served, either.
Squaring her jaw she looked up at him and said, “Mrs. Laferte has said you want to keep me here.”
“She told Yaot’l you wanted her for a wife.” Sascho, who’d just joined them, filled in what Yaot’l could not quite say. Last night, when she’d told him, he’d been angry.
“Maybe Mrs. Laferte wishes you would stay, as Daisy’s so poorly.” There was a gleam in his eye. “But I think it is maybe her own George who wants a wife, not a man who travels, like me.”
“We don’t care what that woman wishes, or what George wants,” Sascho said. “Yaot’l goes with me.”
“Sounds as if you are ready to leave.” Unconcerned, Mr. Zoe scraped the inside of his pipe with a pocket knife. Little lumps of tar and grit fell onto the sandy soil. “No hard feelings, son. I wanted to be sure you kids could make it to Whati, especially with those two tenderfeet in tow.” Sylvain tucked the pipe between his teeth, drew, and then spit. “And now,” he ended, “after our trapping trip together, I believe you can.”
Yaot’l paddled at the front of the boat, Sascho at the back, Kele in the middle. The Zoe family members had agreed that for the first part of their journey, they could use the old birch bark canoe with the understanding that they cache it up country.
The night before they were to depart, Pearl took Yaot’l aside before she could walk up the hill to their shelter.
“I have something for you, girl. Come over here.” Strong woman’s hands pulled her back toward the firelight, toward a willow work basket.
“You have already given us much, Mrs. Zoe.”
“And you have already done many days work, both you and the little ones. You still have a long hard way to go, but this is something you may need before your journey is over.”
She crouched, wide hips flaring her skirt, and began to rummage in a basket. As she got to her feet again, she had a small canvas pouch in hand.
“Here,” she said, passing it to Yaot’l . “Inside is for the moon time which will, I think, soon come to a big strong girl like you. You will not have any aunts or grandmothers to help you out in the bush, so you will have to sit by yourself and make do.”
“Thank you for your kindness, Mrs. Pearl.” Yaot’l received the gift with a flurry of feelings. The embarrassment which had come creeping, she quickly thrust away. Moon time meant shame among the kwet’ı̨ı̨̀. They even called it a “curse”, and had a story about how all the bad things on earth had come from the first woman’s disobedience. Yaot’l’s people had no such story, and, as soon as she’d felt embarrassed, she’d quickly reminded herself that she was Tłı̨chǫ and that kwet’ı̨ı̨̀ feel-bad stories meant nothing to her.
She’d been taught that when the moon time came, it would be a sign that she was, in all her beauty and strength, a woman. After it came, she would be ready to go with Sascho and be his wife—and there was nothing more that she desired than to live and work beside him.
Mrs. Pearl gave her a quick hug and then turned away, back toward the fire. As Yaot’l, pouch in hand, started back toward her own shelter, she could hear Mr. Zoe’s voice. In the darkness along the path, he was speaking to Sascho, words he’d said before, but felt he must say again before they all set out.
“The river gets narrow after a time, and meanders through many pothole lakes and bogs. I know my way through, but it is something you will see for yourself. Once you have left the canoe behind, you’ll be traveling through a mix of forest, muskeg, and bush. So, after you begin to walk, follow the stars, watch for trail sign—that’s all over—and free running water. You will need to stop and hunt, but before summer’s end you will find your way to Tłı̨chǫ land and to the paths you walked last year with your uncle. You should find plenty to eat.”
They had all felt brave last night by the fire, after they’d packed what they had—more blankets, rope and fishing line, another good knife, a small ax, birch bowls, horn spoons, a sharpening stone for the knives, and a needle and thread, another gift from Pearl. Mr. Zoe had given them a lodestone, too, so they wouldn’t be entirely dependent upon a clear night sky.
Now that the encampment was disappearing behind them, the size of the task ahead weighed upon them all. Still, they were Tłı̨chǫ! Sascho and Yaot’l were young adults, who had already done many seasons of traveling.
They would eventually enter the first of three lakes. This would be the easy part. After that, they’d have to locate the correct feeder to continue further north. When they reached an area of rapids, they’d portage and paddle until they found the place Sylvain had described, a stand of half drowned, dead spruce. Then, a long march onward through the muskeg and forest until Tłı̨chǫ trail signs appeared.
Sascho had his own worries, that, Yaot’l knew. This morning, he’d been quiet while they’d been getting underway. So much depended upon what Sascho remembered from last year’s journey with his Uncle! Yaot’l too certainly knew the stars and Mr. Zoe had shown them both which ones to follow, but stars weren’t always visible, and a day or more of journeying in the wrong direction could create hardship—or even tragedy —‑‑in the wild. Even the Stonypoint kids understood how risky their journey was to be.
And, Yaot’l thought, if they didn’t know it before, the Laferte’s warnings over the last few days had made it certain that they do now...
Yaot’l shook her head, hoping to drive the Lafertes--and Kele’s bad behavior-- right out of it. Not only Mr. Zoe, but Pearl had been kind, even after Kele’s fight. They had generously given them most of the new items to aid their journey—a small section of canvas, those bowls, a salt supply, and the horn spoons.
Kele, for the first time since the escape, seemed cheerful. He sang while he paddled —in a voice which now and then broke, which made everyone laugh —songs which reminded everyone of happy times. Tanis, in her piping voice, joined in. She looked healthier than she had at the start of the journey, berry brown from being in the sun, and full of a new confidence. They took turns paddling, though Tanis wasn’t able to keep at it for long. They were working against the flow still, and Yaot’l and Sascho ended every day weary. They made camp early that first night.
It was important Sascho said, that they not camp in places where there were signs of earlier fires, so as not to attract any unwelcome attention from other regular travelers. Not all folks on the river were Indians, and not all strangers, native or not, were to be trusted.
It was with heavy hearts that they cached the small canoe in the place of the dead spruce. Sascho, alert to water flow and the subtle trail sign Mr. Zoe had instructed him to follow, had kept them on the correct route even after they’d paddled across the last lake. Finding the way out of that had not been entirely easy, either, as there was a rat’s nest of feeders on the north side.
Now they’d feel the weight of gear packed onto their backs! After consulting the lodestone, they’d shouldered their burdens and single-file marched away, Sascho first, Yaot’l walking last. They kept the river in sight for a few days, and then, after entering a bog, which they had to back out of and find a way around, they realized that they’d parted company with the major branch of the friendly Horn.
The supplies of dried fish, meat and berries had run out soon after they left the river, and so a part of each day had to be spent finding food, as well as locating another place to camp. There were plenty of fish in the lakes. Once, by a creek, they’d managed to drive a muskrat from its den on the bank by hitting the earth near the hole with sticks until the creature ran out, only to be dispatched with a blow on the head.
They’d thanked the muskrat where he lay. Then the carcass was skinned and the meat roasted. After the flesh had nourished them, they’d taken the bones down to the water’s side and deposited them in a deep pool in the proper way.
“Tell the story of how the muskrat found the earth,” Tanis said. “My Mamàcho loved to tell that story.” She was sleepily nestled against Yaot’l’s side, which made Yaot’l happy. It was such a good feeling, with them all seated by a fire, once more free on their beloved dèè.
She drew a satisfied breath, feeling the warmth of little sister’s body beside hers.
“Dotson’sa, great raven, was the first. He made the world and all the creatures. In those long ago days, all the animals were very large, but the world was still nearly empty, so there was room for all of them. They all hunted and fished and ate berries and did the things that were proper to each kind and they all were very happy. Everything was going well until the big rain came. It rained and it rained and it rained, until there was more water than there is even in Tındeè. Finally, all the dèè was covered with water and all the animals sat with Dotson’sa on a big raft in water that spread for as far as any of them could see.”
“Kwet'ı̨ı̨̀ have that story too.” Kele, who’d been listening, suddenly looked aghast. “Why?”
“Maybe that means it is a true story,” Sascho said, “—at least, the part where the rain covers up all the dèè.”
“Sister Louise said that the rain drowned everyone and that only one good family was saved.” Tanis sat bolt upright as something of the dread she’d felt all winter came creeping back alongside Kele’s mention of that much dreaded name.
“There were no people when the big rain came. Dotson’sa had not made people yet.” Yaot’l thought she ought to remind them that this was a different story.
“Hush and listen,” Sascho added. Yaot’l smiled at him and then continued.
“Dotson’sa knew there was dèè though, way, way down below the water. He knew that this dèè had a powerful magic inside of it and that this could be used to make dry land again. Now, Raven can do many things and he is very wise, though he cannot swim, so he asked the animals if they would try to dive down and bring up some of this magic dèè.”
“At first, they were all frightened because there was so much water, deep as they had never before seen. They sat on the edge of the raft and peered down, but no one could see the bottom. First to try to bring up dèè was the Otter, so strong and sleek.
“I can swim fast; I can catch fish in my teeth.
No silver-sided swift fin can escape me,
My white strong teeth.
I am King of the River.
I will swim to the bottom of this deep water
And find magic dèè for Dotson’sa,
So he can make the world again.”
So Otter dived down and down and down, but as far as he could swim holding his breath, it was not far enough. With his heart pounding and his chest aching, Otter came back to the surface. When he climbed onto the raft, he shook out his fur and hung his head. He was sorry he’d sung a boasting song now that he had failed.
‘I am sorry Dotson’sa. I tried to find dèè, but that water is too deep.’
Next to try was the mink. He said, “I am smaller, but I too can swim fast, I too eat fish. I will try to do what the big otter could not.
I am fast and I am fierce,
I will slip and slide through the water,
And my slender self will succeed where otter could not.
And he too tried. He swam and swam and swam, but he couldn’t reach the bottom either. He barely made it back to the raft and climbed up, choking and coughing, his beautiful fur all soaked.
Well, well, said Dotson’sa, let us ask the birds to try.
First to come forward was Grebe, the little round faced bird who keeps his nest so secret among the reeds.
I have marvelous feet, each one webbed,
But I can spread the toes wide so
My feet are like paddles.
I can hold my breath, too,
Yes I can and now I will try to find the magic dèè.
And so saying, in he dived. He swam and swam with his paddle feet and he went down, down, deeper than the others—but he couldn’t reach the bottom to find the magic earth. In the end, he popped back up to the surface and climbed back onto the raft quite defeated.
The loon stepped up next. He too sang a song.
Water slides from each feather
And I can swim so fast beneath the water,
Faster than otter, faster than mink,
And faster than Grebe, too,
I am loon who is
Lightning under the water.
So the loon dived down and he swam and swam, holding his breath. Time passed, and still the loon dived down, on and on and on. Dotson’sa and all the other animals thought for sure that loon would be the one to bring back the magic dèè. When he popped to the surface again after the longest time of all, and took a deep, deep breath, everyone was sure he must have done it—but he had not.
I will go—I can find the magic dèè! A little voice cried. Everyone turned to look and there stood muskrat, so small and round. When the creatures saw who had spoken, they all began to laugh. The otter laughed. The mink laughed. The loon and the grebe laughed. The others joined in.
Ha-ha-ha! Puny little Muskrat thinks he can find the magic dèè, when all of us have tried and it was too far. Ha-ha-ha! Foolish unimportant Muskrat!
But Dotson’sa looked at the muskrat and saw that he was sincere. Besides, Dotson’sa knew, though others did not, that the humble muskrat could hold his breath for the longest of any of them. If any creature could reach the magic dèè, it would be him.
Muskrat did not bother to sing a song, though he has one, just as everyone does. Instead, he just dove into the water and began to swim. Down, down, down, down he went, as far as the otter had gone, as far as the mink had gone, as far as the grebe had gone and then, finally, as far as the loon had gone. It was dark and deep and very, very cold here, but he kept on swimming and swimming and holding his breath. Finally, he touched the bottom and here he scooped up a chunk of mud. Holding it to his breast, he kicked like mad until at last, he reached the surface. Puffing and blowing he arrived at the raft where the other animals—that had stopped laughing during his long absence and begun to worry about him—helped him up. At Dotson’sa’s feet, he laid down his prize—the magical dèè. Everyone was amazed to see what the little fat fellow had done—how this small animal had brought back exactly what Dotson’sa needed to make a world for them to stand upon again.
And Dotson’sa breathed upon the mud, and it began to grow and grow and make an island. The island continued to grow and grow until at last there was enough dèè for everyone to go and walk about and begin to live in the ways that they had before the coming of the great flood. And that is why people say that muskrat found the dèè and that because he did, in a way, the dèè h belongs to him.”
Yaot’l loved to tell this story and had learned it at young age from her own favorite Mamàcho, Josette.
Across the fire, Yaot’l saw Sascho smile.
“We should tell that story to the kwet’ı̨ı̨̀,” he said, “but he wouldn’t understand. He thinks everything belongs to him.” Sadly, he shook his head.
Across the fire, Kele, too, shivered, as if from some terrible memory. Yaot’l, however, refused to feel anything but the warmth and comfort of the story she’d told.
Someday, she thought, I’ll tell the story of humble can-do muskrat to our children.
Trees rose on every side, the species changing with the soil and amount of water beneath their feet. First, they walked through stands of aspen, whose young shoots the beaver loved, and where they could hunt for hares. Sometimes, encountering a riverine bog, they’d pause for a moment to watch as a lordly moose huffed at the sight of them and then turned away, plowing his great body deeper into the water. The large animals seemed to know that no gun was present and rarely abandoned their dignity in flight.
Finding themselves among a grove of k’i, the ‑white birch, they’d stopped for a time, built a small fire and shaped another dish from the bark Sascho carefully peeled from one of the trees. Kele, who’d never seen anyone do this, watched with interest while Sascho demonstrated how to remove the bark without injuring the tree.
It was full summer and some days were very hot, so staying in the forest shade made the journey easier. Just as Mr. Zoe had said, the “tenderfoots” were slowing them down, Tanis in particular. She had a night cough that didn’t go away, and one morning she awoke with a fever and an earache. They had to stop for several days while Yaot’l took advantage of a nearby stand of Tamarack, whose needles were good for teas and poultices. Her mother had taught her that tamarack tea was good for colds, earaches, and many other illnesses, so she dosed first Tanis and then everyone else with Tamarack as a preventative, just in case what Tanis suffered from was catching. Later the same day, Kele and Tanis took turns soaking their feet in the brew, to relieve soreness.
They’d settled into a pattern of stopping every day for a time around noon-sun. While Tanis hid “like a fawn” and rested, the others went to scout the area and hunt for supper of some kind. As the days were long, there was always enough light to travel until they were completely worn out.
For days Yaot’l hadn’t felt well. The weight of her pack seemed to grow unbearably heavy by the end of each one.
I hate this ax, Yaot’l thought. This morning, her pack had shifted almost as soon as she’d got it over her shoulders. More, it had been brutally hot as they’d walked in and out of cover. For what seemed an eternity the handle had been banging against her back. She and Sascho took turns every other day of carrying the thing, and although it wasn’t full-sized, it was sufficiently bulky to be irritating—and even occasionally painful—if it wasn’t tied against the bedroll just right.
As she swung the pack down and then bent to readjust, she had a wild urge to simply throw the ax as far as she could into the brush. Of course, she couldn’t do that. The small sharp ax was aggravating to carry constantly, but it was also extremely effective when they needed to apply some real force and a good edge to a piece of wood.
Tonight it was taking forever to find a good spot to camp. Sascho seemed to be more cautious than usual. He’d pause, look around, and even if there was good water nearby, he’d find some other reason to go on. Then Tanis, disappointed and ever-weary, would begin to lag behind, and Yaot’l would have to wait for her, while the load on her own back grew heavier and heavier. It was difficult to be footsore and weary and still keep a careful watch on their surroundings. Sometimes Sascho and Kele would be far ahead. It was frustrating to see their backs recede, knowing that she could keep up, but she didn’t want to risk losing Tanis, who was doing her best.
As the sun dropped and they trudged on—and on—she felt herself becoming ever more impatient. Sascho had passed a likely looking pond and then they’d immediately entered an area of bush and brush with no trees or water. Tanis was whimpering softly to herself and Yaot’l’s temper on the boil by the time they finally met with water again, probably a feeder of the same cheerful creek they’d left behind two hours ago.
“What’s the difference between this place and the last?” Yaot’l grumbled as she shrugged herself out of the pack. The ropes had been digging into her shoulders all afternoon. Tanis, last to stumble in, didn’t bother to escape her burden. She simply sank to the ground with a groan, the birch dishes rattling as she collapsed.
Sascho did not reply, just continued to study their surroundings. After she’d helped Tanis disentangle herself from the pack, Yaot’l began to search for the pouch of tamarack bark and needles she’d packed away some days earlier. On the approach to Lac le Martre they’d find more tamarack again for sure. That place, she reasoned, would certainly be wetter, the conditions perfect for more of this not too common, but extremely effective, medicinal.
All of us, she thought, need a dose of tamarack tea—especially me. Maybe I’m catching what Tanis has—and at once she prayed not, for whatever it was afflicting Tanis—or so she’d begun to fear—was the kind of disease which continues to grow.
Like the wasting sickness which struck my father…
She did not want to dwell on such a dark thought, and again resolved to do whatever she could to keep Tanis well enough to reach her kin. Knowing she was the mother of this little band, she at once stopped her busy fingers in their search for the tamarack and instead focused on her surroundings, hoping to calm down. Effective medicine could not be brewed properly in her present state of mind.
“If you want to think clear and stay strong, first you must breathe deep and feel the earth under your feet. Dèè will nourish you.” That’s what Mamàcho Josette always said, so Yaot’l closed her eyes and took a moment for some deep breaths in and out.
Sure enough, when she looked around again, everything seemed clearer. They had stopped in a beautiful grove of balsam poplar, one of the tallest trees in the dèè. In the gentle breeze the arrow shaped leaves fluttered above her head. Lower down, there was gnawed bark, showing that the beaver sometimes visited. There were also signs of porcupine and hare, for all were creatures who loved to strip and eat young bark and feast upon seedlings.
She would suggest that they stop here for a few days. There was good water and also meat of some kind fit for the pot—perhaps, even one of those porcupines who’d so clearly signaled a presence. They were easy prey and that kind of fat meat was just what everyone needed.
They made fire and cleaned the ptarmigan they’d caught. Sascho had thanked the birds, then plucked them and cut off their wings many hours ago where they were killed, which was the proper way. Tonight, they’d singe them, gut them, and then roast the strong dark red meat. Along with these, they roasted several large spike cap mushrooms they’d gathered earlier in the day.
The first time they had come upon these mushrooms, with their slimy gray look, Kele had thought they were disgusting. Sascho had barely caught him in time to prevent a nice large one from being kicked to bits and wasted. Later, cooked in a bark pot, or skewered and roasted, Kele had learned that these were another wild food that was good to eat.
“Let us rest here for a few days. I see pot herbs in that open area by the creek and there are porcupine and hares around here too. Tanis needs a rest and so do I.”
Yaot’l had been in no mood for an argument, so she was relieved when Sascho simply said, “That’s a good idea.”
Tanis gazed at her in silent gratitude. As he licked his fingers, seated by the fire, Kele outright sighed with relief. Sascho had been pushing them all hard.
Sascho and Kele had gone to place the ptarmigan bones in the crook of a young tree, a way to give the birds honor for their sacrifice. The moon had begun to rise; Yaot’l could see it through the trees, sailing through the summer sky. For a moment she stood and simply gazed up, noting that once again it was near full. It had been an entire month since they’d left the Zoes’ camp!
She could not make out why, as she crouched to pee, her back and stomach ached so. She’d helped prepare food, eaten—although without much of an appetite—and she’d sat by the fire for a little rest. For a moment, she was afraid she might be getting sick, and that was why she felt so unwell, but the real answer to the question, however, came in the hot trickle she felt upon her thighs.
“Thank-you, Sascho.”
He nodded and just stood for a moment, studying her with solemn respect. Yaot’l had returned from the woods and explained that she had become a woman. She’d asked that he help by making a shelter in a place she’d found, while she waited further back in the woods. He knew that the powerful woman’s magic had come upon her, and that she now needed to keep her distance from him. Without comment, he’d followed and done as she’d asked.
Now, the cast off antler he’d used to dig still in hand, he turned and disappeared among the saplings, heading back to Kele and their original campfire. Yaot’l and Tanis were now alone together beside a long low shelter made of bent branches. At the back, a pit had been dug. While Sascho had dug the hole and then spliced the branches of their shelter together, she had made use of one of the rag pads she’d taken from the pouch that Pearl had given her. Tanis had been sent to gather dried moss they’d spied deeper among the trees.
Exhausted now, they sat at the shelter. Tanis had gathered her blanket and wordlessly lay down beside her. Yaot’l stroked her hair. “We’re going to rest for a few days, little sister. No more walking until my moon time is done.”
There was no answer, and from the even breathing, Yaot’l knew she had fallen straight into sleep. As she watched the moon sail into the tree tops, she hoped the boys could find some good meat here before they had to go on. As the sun lowered it grew still. The night would be warm.
It was odd just to rest, but as soon as she’d slept in the shelter once, she awoke feeling much better. With Tanis and herself, things were quiet. Tanis, too, seemed to need a lot of sleep, and while she did, Yaot’l had time to be alone with her self—and with the dèè.
Once, when she’d gone to the creek to wash out the pads, she’d ended just sitting quietly on the bank for a time.
On this warm day, the dèè showed off its splendour. Sunlight danced in and out within the poplar cover and made quavering bracelets of light which slipped first up and then down upon the tree limbs. Kinglets rustled and peeped among the leaves. Green and blue, brown of trees and the smell of moist earth, and overhead the light, the sweet bird song cascade…
For an instant Patricia’s laughing face floated before her, and she wished with all her heart that her friend was alive, and traveling with them. Yaot’l imagined it was so, and set Patricia’s image beside her, sitting on the bank, enjoying the day.
I will ever remember you, my friend, and in every beautiful place I shall see your spirit! You shall travel with me on every journey for the rest of my life.
After the long imprisonment, the sights and sounds and scents of the place washed over her like a balm, soothing all the old sorrows.
I am a woman now! My feet stand upon the dèè. The strength of ndèonde, of trees, the energy of flowing water, the fiery She Spirit herself, now dwells within me.
While they fished or gathered food for themselves, Yaot’l told Tanis all the old stories she knew. First she told of the Woman Who Lived Alone, and how she met and married a handsome stranger who wooed her for days with many presents of game.
They lived happily together for a time. One night, while he was away hunting, she heard a disturbance among her dogs, yelping and snarling as if a strange dog, or even a wolf, had come among them. Frightened, she’d crept to the opening of her tent, and, with all her strength, threw her sharpest ax at a shadowy four legged creature, moving among the tethered animals. When silence fell and all the dogs grew quiet, she was afraid no longer, but lay down again to sleep.
When she awoke in the morning and went out, she found the body of her husband. He’d been killed by the ax she’d thrown, so now she was alone again. It was all a sorrowful mystery until some months later she gave birth to five puppies. She understood then that her lost husband must have been one of those who could change his form. She thought she ought to destroy the puppies, but she could not for they were company and all she had left of her good husband.
Now that she had no man, the woman sometimes had to leave her camp and go hunting, leaving her puppies behind. One day, when she came home early, she heard voices and happy cries, like children playing. As she crept through the bushes, she saw that instead of five puppies there were now five children. Their discarded puppy skins lay on the ground near the fire. As soon as they saw their mother, though, they slipped on those skins and changed back again.
“Those who can change shape are devils.” Tanis, looking alarmed, interrupted. She used the kwet’ı̨ı̨̀ word “devils.”
“That is how kwet’ı̨ı̨̀ thinks.” Yaot’l replied sternly. “All great hunters, and many Shamans too, can change their shape at will. If you are part of the dèè’, you can learn to do such things.”
“So this story means that our ancestor was a dog-man?”
“I haven’t yet finished the story. You should not interrupt.”
“But that’s what it means, though, isn’t it?”
“Yes.”
Tanis appeared so upset that Yaot’l decided to quickly finish the tale.
“The woman had to try several times before she managed to capture all their dog skins and prevent them from changing back. It is said that from those children the Tłı̨chǫ People come.”
“The kwet’ı̨ı̨̀ call us dogs—and devils, too.” Tanis was stricken.
“And what do they know of us and our ways? They could not have lived here without our help, and see how they repay us. As for dogs, well, without them, winter travel would be impossible. Without dogs, everything would have to travel on our backs. A good dog will fight with a wolverine or a wolf to defend his people. Dogs are not as wise as wolves, but they are our truest friends; they hunt with us.” Yaot’l slipped an arm around Tanis. “Don’t fear what kwet’ı̨ı̨̀ calls you. They think they know everything worth knowing, but they don’t.”
Tanis considered for a time. She appeared to now be more concerned that Yaot’l was angry with her. At last, she said, “I guess it would be nice to have a dog with us now. He could warn us of danger and he could carry a pack, too, just as you say.”
The days had passed, and the moon aged and shrank. Her time of sitting ended, Yaot’l and Tanis returned to the camp, both feeling ready to go on again. The boys were happy to see them, displaying proudly the fish and game they’d taken. The next morning, they set out on their journey again.
Some days later, when they had just entered a sandy, rocky area dappled with Jack Pine, Sascho suddenly signaled them all to be quiet and get down. Yaot’l suddenly realized that all the birds had gone quiet. In the winter, this would be a place where caribou came to browse on lichen. It had seemed empty, with only those strange gray-green clots of life clinging to dead branches and vegetation that straggled upwards from among the low bush blueberries that carpeted the ground.
She startled when up ahead a loud crack rang out—gunfire—and then they heard voices. Kwet’ı̨ı̨̀! They must either be coming toward them, or crossing the trajectory of their path. If Sascho hadn’t been paying attention, they might have stumbled right into them. With bullets flying around and with the kwet’ı̨ı̨̀—who sometimes fired at sounds heard, rather than game seen—they didn’t want to get any closer.
Yaot’l sent a prayer to the spirits of the place that these men weren’t traveling with dogs—and that they weren’t coming this way. At her side, Tanis put her fingers in her ears and closed her eyes, as if this would shut out the danger. Kele looked around, his large eyes bulging. A steady crunch-crunch-crunch moved up ahead—boots on the march through the brush.
“Hurry, crawl inside here,” Sascho motioned towards a stand of trees with low lying branches. The undergrowth at the base of the trees grew so thick Yaot’l had to cut away some of the thickest branches with her axe and hold back the smaller ones so that Kele and Tanis could enter.
“What are you going to do?” she turned to Sascho.
“Just scout them out. I won’t be seen, I need to find out how many there are, and what they are doing.”
“I’ll come with you.”
“No, there’s twice the danger of being heard if there are two of us. Besides you need to stay with the kids. I will not be discovered.”
“I trust you.” Yaot’l raised her hand to signal acceptance of his decision and then crawled through the small opening to join the youngsters.
Sascho crept through the woods making no more sound than a small skittering animal. Following the smell of smoke from what was obviously a man-made campfire, he dropped to his knees when he came upon a large clearing. He slipped towards the edge and secreted himself behind an old moss-and-lichen covered log. Three men sat around a smoky campfire eating what smelled like rabbit stew. Sascho eyed the pot that had obviously provided their evening meal and held his breath to still his grumbling stomach.
“Hey Mike. I still don’t understand why you wanted us to go traipsing through these woods,” A stocky man, dressed in a red plaid shirt and a brown hunting cap spoke in a low pitched nasally voice. “Did you forget your promise to help us bag a grizzly bear?”
“I know what I said.” Mike, a weather beaten old timer with long gray hair and a full beard leaned over and pulled a coffee pot out of the embers of the campfire. “I told you. The Indian Agent we met back at Fort Providence asked me to keep an eye out for four Injun kids that got away from the school. The bounty he’s offered for bringing them in would be enough to pay for provisions to take us through a Nunavut winter. We’d be able to do all the hunting you wanted. “
“But what the hell are we going to do with four kids if we do find them?”
“We don’t have to do nothing with them. There’s an old trappers cabin about fifteen miles north. If we catch the kids, we’re supposed to take them there and the agent will be along in five days. He’ll pay us enough to last us right through the winter.”
“Hey Syd, that don’t sound like too bad a deal to me.” The third man, younger and with a softer voice, interrupted the two on the edge of an argument. “I’m game if you two are. We can spend a couple days looking for those kids and if we don’t find them, nothing lost, we’ll still be heading north towards Nunavut.”
Syd looked over at his friend then nodded his head. “Okay. If the two of you want to waste a couple of days, I won’t object. Just remember, if we don’t find those kids by the end of the week, we’re heading out and not wasting any more time.”
“You’ve got a deal.” Mike nodded his agreement. “Now let’s get some sleep tonight and in the morning, we can head back to the creek, follow it for a couple of days and keep a sharp eye out for signs of those youngsters. They’re not from around here, so they’re not likely to risk going deep enough into the woods to get around us that way.”
Sascho waited while the men settled into their bed rolls and then, with a rueful look at the stew pot still sitting in the campfire, he backed away from the log and slipped noiselessly into the woods.
Back where Yaot’l and the kids were hidden, Sascho crouched in front of the small entrance, “It’s Sascho,” he said, alerting them of his return.
Kele and Tanis slept on a bed of spruce boughs that the three of them had fashioned from some of the low hanging branches the tree had provided.
“What did you see?” Yaot’l asked Sascho who had crawled through the narrow entrance and crouched beside her on the ground.
“They’re hunters all right, but they’re also looking for us.”
Yaot’l’s eyes widened. “Why would hunters be looking for us?”
“They met up with the kw'ahtıı at Fort Providence. He offered them a bounty if they could find us. They’re supposed to follow the creek and meet up with the kw'ahtıı at a kwet’ı̨ı̨̀ detsı̨kǫ̀ that they say is about fifteen miles north.”
“What are we going to do?”
“Stay here. Keep hidden until after they leave their camp. They’re not expecting us to go deeper into the forest. They know we’re strangers here, and they figure we’ll follow the water. They plan on leaving first thing in the morning and heading back that way, then they’re going to follow it, searching for our signs.”
Yaot’l raised her head and looked into Sascho’s eyes. “I’m scared,” she said. “I never want to go back to that place. I’d rather die.”
“Don’t worry. We’re not going back. Tonight we’ll take turns keeping watch. If they wake up,” he nodded towards the sleeping kids, “tell them they have to keep very quiet. We must not be discovered.”
“You don’t think we should move on into the woods tonight?”
“No. We wouldn’t be able to see and it’s too easy to fall into danger. We’re a lot more likely to make noises that we don’t intend and alert the hunters. We’ll stay here until they’ve gone, and then we’ll go deep into the woods where no one will be looking for us.”
Yaot’l reached up her hand and brushed the hair back on Sascho’s forehead. “I trust you my gòı̀chı. You sleep now. I’ll take the first watch.”
With that she crawled to the entrance of their hiding place and positioned herself so she could see without being seen.